


These Dreams are not My Own

by Celestial_Cafe



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestial_Cafe/pseuds/Celestial_Cafe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tentoo is still linked to the original, but only just. He sees what happens to him sometimes, in dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

   

The first time it happened, he hadn't been entirely sure what "it" was. All he really remembered was a bunch of nonsense about cybermen and snow, and... a hot air balloon. He didn't really think much of it, until it happened again. After the second incident, though, he knew.

     He'd considered the possibility of a psychic link with his counterpart in the other universe, but until now-- four months after his "birth"-- there had been no confirmation. Now, suddenly, his dreams were claimed by adventures that he had never had, in places that he'd never been to, with people he'd never met. It was hard for him to accept, but he knew. He was dreaming about  _him._ The next time it happened, he awoke with a start, disturbing Rose in the bed beside him. As he lay back down beside her, he decided not to tell her of these dreams. She had only just gotten over missing life in a TARDIS, and he wasn't going to remind her of it.  _Let her heal_ , he decided. 

     ***One Year Later***

     The Doctor woke to a scream. Before he was even properly awake (damn this human body), he was out of bed and grappling for the light switch, which he hit rather forcefully. When the lights came on, his stomach dropped. The bed was empty. Rose was gone. He dug in the nightstand drawer for the new sonic screwdriver he'd constructed, when something hit him square in the back with a  _whumf._

     A pillow. When he turned around, a pillow was lying at his feet. All at once, he understood what must have happened. 

"Rose?" He asked tentatively. In answer, another pillow was launched from the other side of the bed, accompanied by an irritated grunt. He peered over the mattress, and saw Rose in a heap on the floor, looking tired and very put-off. "Did I wake you?" 

She tilted her head in a way that managed to look condescending. "Nah. It was the fall that woke me. You just pushed me out of bed!" Her voice escalated with each word until she was shouting. The Doctor winced and offered her his hand. She batted it away and pulled herself up with the headboard. "You nearly knocked my out last night. You with your bony elbows." She muttered. 

     "I-- Rose, I'm sorry. I've just..." He looked up at her face, assessing his options. Something inside him said _it's now or never!_  and so, with a sigh, he pulled her back down so that they were both sitting on the bed. "I've been having these dreams--"

Rose scoffed. "I knew that bit. Who the hell is Adelaide Brook?"

"I don't know, Rose. Honestly, I don't. Never met her in my life. But..." He trailed off, unsure how to make her understand. "Look... These dreams are not my own."

Rose's glare was less icy by now, but she was clearly still cross when she asked "Well what's that supposed to mean?"

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Do you remember all those years ago, when I called you to Bad Wolf Bay? How you woke up every morning with a cacophony of whispers inside your head?"

Rose nodded suspiciously, her crankiness at being awoken at such an hour dissolving. "I thought I was mad."

The Doctor shook his head. "No. It was a psychic link. I was able to track you down because of the little bit of the TARDIS left in you. It was a very tricky process actually. I had to adjust and fine tune every--" He stopped abruptly when she cocked an eyebrow, mentally shaking himself. "Sorry. Rambling. But the point is, if there's a strong enough connection, a psychic link can be formed across parallel universes."

At this, Rose's eyes grew wide.

"And... I've got one with  _him."_

     Rose nearly leaped off of the bed in excitement and let out a squeal. "You do? Can we talk to him? Is he talking to you? What's happening?!"

     The Doctor couldn't hide the pang of jealousy that ripped through him as she spoke. He knew she missed the other Doctor, the one he'd sometimes caught her calling the  _real_ Doctor. But he was the same. Couldn't she see that?

     But she was still looking at him with those warm, melty brown eyes, and so he told her. 

     "He hasn't been doing much, really. Visited earth a few times. Went to Mars, too. Lots of traffic in the good old solar system. Met up with Donna's grandfather, you remember Donna, right?"

     Rose's expression changed from hope to sadness all at once. "Yeah, good old Donna. What's she up to now?"

     And so the Doctor told her about the fate of his best friend, and how she'd gone on with her life as if their adventures had never happened. It nearly broke Rose's heart, hearing how much he missed her in his voice. He described her new fiance, and how her grandfather had helped him in his latest adventure. Then came the questions, which, of course, he had to answer. Rose learned about the Master, and the immortality gate, and even the cactus people. But when he reached the end of the story, he wasn't sure if he could go on. He looked back up at Rose's expectant face, and took a deep breath. 

     "There's... also something else you should know." He said, clasping his hands together. "But it's not something you'll like."

     Rose grinned a bit, doing that thing where she stuck her tongue between her teeth that just drove him wild. "What, has he got a new girl? I heard some "Amelias" thrown around tonight."

The Doctor smiled sadly. "Not quite." He wrung his hands. "He's got a new... face."

      For a moment, it seemed like the news hadn't sunk in yet. Rose's features were frozen in the same mask of hopeful expectancy. And suddenly, that mask shattered. "He's... he's regenerated, then?"

     The Doctor could do nothing but give a somber nod.

     They shared a moment of silence, mourning the man they'd both known only too briefly. 

     "Well then."Rose said, patting her Doctor's arm. "It's a good thing I've got you."

     She never called the other one the  _real_   Doctor again.


	2. Chapter 2

From that night on, every time it happened, John-- for that was his name now in Pete's world-- would tell rose everything he saw. He described Amy and Rory as best as he could, and even got her up to speed on the enigma that was River Song. The visit with Vincent Van Gogh made them both cry, as did the Ponds' deaths. Clara was a joy to hear about. She was so bubbly and sweet.

 Sometimes he got full stories at a time, other times he only saw bits and pieces, and had to try and fit them together when he saw the aftermath. Sometimes he saw them through the other doctor's eyes, sometimes he saw it all as if on a screen. But one thing was always constant: the joy it gave Rose to hear from him. 

She had settled well into their new life-- they both had. Pete's world's Torchwood was lucky to have them. But the adventures the other doctor had-- throughout space and time-- well, they were unattainable now. He could see that it helped her ease into a "normal life" when she still got bits of the alien here and there. It was almost therapeutic, he'd noticed. For both of them. Knowing the other doctor was all right somehow made their lives a little easier.

There were moments, sure, when things got dangerous, and John didn't tell her at first. He'd wait and see the outcome before passing the story along. He couldn't afford to break her heart again. But each and every time, the other guy managed to pull through, and John was blessed with another story to tell. 

But he had been counting regenerations. He knew that the other doctor was coming to his end. Rose didn't know of course. She didn't know about the face he wore just before he met her, and he didn't think she fully understood the way he'd been created from regeneration energy. But when the other doctor showed signs of age, John new he'd have to tell her. This was the end. 

He didn't actually see it happen. Bits and pieces filtered into his dreams. Clara's pleading, the crack in the wall that he didn't fully understand as it had never been explained in his dreams, the town of Christmas... and then just a light. The brightest light imaginable. When he woke from this dream, he knew it was over. 

He took a deep breath before waking Rose. He really,  _really_ didn't want to tell her, but she deserved to know. He shook her gently by the shoulders.

"Rose. Hey. Rose, wake up, darling."

Rose groaned as she was pulled from sleep. "What is it?" she mumbled. "What-- what time is it?"

John knew without looking. "Quarter till six. But hey, I need to tell you something." He sighed. "About  _him_."

Rose was very awake now. She asked a million questions before John could quiet her down. She knew that to be waken up in the middle of the night, something serious must have happened to the other doctor. 

"Did he regenerate? Oh, god, what's he look like now? No, hang on, did he run into a timelord? That would be something, eh?"

"No, Rose, stop." John shook his head. "Just listen."

He wasn't sure if Rose knew that timelords only got twelve regenerations, so he started at the beginning. He detailed every one, watching her anxiety grow as she tallied up the numbers. 

"No." She said flat out, when he got to number eleven. "No, he isn't dead. He can't be dead. Not, like,  _really_ dead." She took a shaky breath. "He-- he  _can't."_

John closed his eyes. Nodded. 

Rose sat there for a moment, dumbstruck, in denial. But it all caught up to her at once, and she burst into tears. She leaned into him, and it was only when he noticed the wetness of her hair that he realized he'd been crying too. The other doctor had been such a huge part of both of them... and now he was gone. 

John didn't expect any more dreams after that. The psychic link was broken. The other doctor was dead. 

But when he woke up a month later, he knew he'd been wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

An old, lined face. A steely gaze. Eyebrows like caterpillars. John couldn't get the face out of his head. If what he'd seen the night before was real...

But that was impossible. The other doctor's regenerations were up. Gallifrey was nowhere to be found to give him more. He  _had_ to be dead. 

John called in sick to work that day. It wasn't entirely a lie. The dream had made him queasy with dread and excitement. As soon as Rose left the house, he tried to fall back to sleep, hoping to see confirmation of last night's dream.

It could have just been a dream, after all. Nothing more than wishful thinking. A final grasp at hope. The problem was, John would never find out if he couldn't fall asleep. It was too much to think about, he decided. He needed to calm his mind. 

He tried everything. Yoga. Music. Sleeping tablets. Even a good old cup of tea. Nothing made him even remotely tired.  He even tried  _not_ going to sleep. He prepared for the day as if he was going to work-- brushing his teeth, combing his unruly hair, getting dressed, eating breakfast... nothing. He lied awake all day, frustrated with himself and with sleep and with life in general.

When Rose got home, she didn't hesitate to ask him what was the matter. He looked a mess, and so the lie about being sick rolled off of his tongue easily. He told her not to fret about him, that all he needed was a little rest. That part was entirely true. She made him soup (which was awful, because no matter how much Rose wanted to be domestic, John was a much better cook) and left him alone to get some rest. 

Knowing Rose was home somehow made it even harder to fall asleep. He wanted so badly to tell her that he'd been wrong, that somehow the other doctor had survived, to make her smile. It was too much pressure. John pressed his face into a pillow and moaned. He just wanted to sleep.

* * *

It was nearly two am before John finally slipped out of consciousness. He woke up half an hour later, excited. He had seen aliens in his dream. That had to be a good sign. He realized, though, as he turned the dream over in his mind, that he had seen Ewoks. Rose's Star Wars marathon from the previous weekend had gone to his head. He sighed. 

It was like that the rest on the night. In and out of sleep, hopeful, disappointed, and tired. He finally just gave up, and went to check on Rose in the guest bedroom where she was sleeping to avoid catching his "cold". 

She was curled up in an old tee shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, grasping the covers like she normally grasped at him. She was adorable. Before he knew what he was doing, he had crawled into bed next to her, sliding between her arms in his usual spot. He could hardly believe it when he felt himself succumbing to sleep. How funny, the thought as he drifted off, that all he'd needed all this time was someone to make him feel at home.

* * *

 

When John woke up the next morning, it was to a feeling of confusion. It wasn't just sleeping in the guest room that had disoriented him; it was the strange feeling of not being in the right body. The same feeling he'd had after some of his psychic dreams...

His heart leapt. He jumped up to find Rose, who was making another attempt at soup in the kitchen. 

"Rose, Rose!" He shouted gleefully. "Sit down!"

"What the hell are you--"

"Sit down! I've got something amazing to tell you!"

* * *

 


End file.
